


In Hidden Halls

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: First Age, General
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-23 08:44:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3761966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An embellished scene from The Silmarillion. Turgon receives a strange message, remembers an old friend and seeks him out in vain. (Also featuring Hurin.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Hidden Halls

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

Thorondor descends from the skies above Gondolin, which are clouded these days with the dust of Angband. He speaks to Turgon from the walls.

"There is one in the valley who came long ago as a stranger and departed as a friend. I know not how he returns here beyond hope."

Of course Turgon remembers the one who came on the Eagle's wings. How could he forget?

The city was dark as the people waited through the night, and silent save the fountains and falls for whose song it was named. This year, others were among them at Gondolin's great festival, the Gates of Summer. Turgon stood not far from the brothers, gazing out from the walls of his city.

"Do you suppose they do this sort of thing in midwinter, as well?" he heard Huor whisper. "This night is the shortest, and a warm one for that matter, yet my feet grow cold as the stone."

"As do mine." That was Hurin. "Though I doubt the Gondolindrim grow cold so quickly, brother. It is almost dawn in any case."

The brothers were both right, he thought, but perhaps Huor had not learned to wait like this in his thirteen years.

"You are quite right," he told the younger boy. "We have no Gates of Winter, a ridiculous idea. I wonder who offered that possibility?"

"No offense meant, lord," Huor said quietly, but the three of them were laughing.

Night lifted gradually from the city of Gondolin, and the King's voice rose with the red light. There Glingal and Belthil of his making shone in the sunlight, recalling a light still greater that had long since perished and could not be made again. Other voices joined, and Hurin too began to sing. Turgon decided not to tell him that his Quenya was horrid.

Can it be that Hurin now returns out of the very darkness of Angband?

"Does Morgoth sleep?" Turgon demands. "You were mistaken."

"Not so." Thorondor's voice is sharp. "If the Eagles of Manwe were wont to err thus, then long ago, lord, your hiding would have been in vain."

If the Eagles have indeed seen Hurin, Turgon knows with chilling certainty why the man seeks the Hidden City. For Morgoth allows none who do not serve his purpose in some way to walk freely from Angband.

"Then your words can bear but one meaning." The Elf-lord forces his conclusion past dry lips. "Even Hurin Thalion has surrendered to the will of Morgoth. My heart is shut."

Thorondor is silent, giving only a last penetrating gaze. The King of Eagles pushes off from the walls with mighty claws, spreads his wings once more, and swiftly launches into a sky marred by evil works.

Turgon's own words ring in his ears, and even now he cannot quite believe them, recalling the boy he once knew.

The three of them stood on a balcony overlooking the top of Turgon's tower. It was dusk, and a torch on the wall added to the fading light.  
Turgon spoke of the thing that had been in the back of his mind for some time.

"You have dwelt in Gondolin for nearly a year, my friends. My law holds that none who come here may depart. Yet despite that law, despite Ulmo's counsel that aid to the city will come from you at some time, I would gladly welcome you both to remain here for love alone, if you are willing."

Hurin sighed and shook his head. A red-gold lock of hair fell into his eyes, glinting in the torchlight.

"We would gladly remain, lord, were it not for the strife that continues beyond these walls in the lands of our kin. Do not think that  
I place your friendship below such ties! But one must go where need calls one, leaving behind fair and peaceful things."

So they agreed, in time. Hurin and Huor departed in the way they came, with the Eagles, and swore to keep the secret of Gondolin.

Turgon remembers the boy he knew then. He remembers also the man who, with his brother Huor, counselled him to leave the Fifth Battle. The man who, standing between Angband and Gondolin, gave the aid of the House of Hador that Ulmo had prophesied. The man who, so the Eagles had reported, spoke of hope even then: "Aure entuluva! Day shall come again!"

The King cannot bring himself to believe that such a man would seek now to betray him.

"Come to me!" Turgon cries at last to the Eagles. Several of them come to the city walls in a rush of wings. "Eagles of Manwe, bear word to the one who seeks me: the one I doubted in this dark hour but will doubt no longer. Bear word and welcome to Hurin Thalion!"

None can find Hurin. None hear him call out as he draws near to  
Gondolin, near enough to be heard not by messengers of the friend he seeks but by those of the foe who has not truly released him.

"Turgon, Turgon, remember the Fen of Serech! O Turgon, will you not hear in your hidden halls?"


End file.
